


blooming mauve

by scintillatingstars



Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - College/University, Dysfunctional Relationships, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23135845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scintillatingstars/pseuds/scintillatingstars
Summary: Kartik always loved gazing at the night sky. The inky canopy of sky bejewelled with infinite sparkling gems never failed to fascinate him.But what he didn't know was one day a certain someone with purple constellations blooming on skin would become Sirius to his night and he'd do anything to unravel him from the approaching supernova.
Relationships: Aman Tripathi/Original Character (OC), Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Comments: 62
Kudos: 159





	1. a dimmed star

Kartik got into the college when the midterms were just about the corner. His father's job has always required transferring from time to time. By the age of eighteen, Kartik has learnt not to attach strings too easily because it hurts like hell to leave cherished things behind and start over anew.

Kartik, therefore, had a high affinity to adapt to the new atmosphere for change has been the only constant in his life.

So, when he entered the college it didn't take him long to make quick friends who were willing to assist him. His outgoing, flamboyant nature never failed to make him approachable.

Here is he at the cafeteria's table sighing periodically over the notes for half a year that are eagerly waiting to be caught up with.

The midterms are just half a month away and Kartik just doesn't want to fail and make a poor first impression.

"Listen, if you're expecting us to help, forget it. We ourselves are on the verge of failing," Keshav says, the nerd of the group, who's most likely to say the classic 'maine toh kuch nhi padha' (I have not studied anything) as he aces the exam.

Kartik rolls his eyes and sighs yet again.

"This isn't going to help you," Kanika says, vaguely pointing to whatever he was doing.

"So what should I do?" He exclaimed quite loudly, drawing the attention of students, who look equally stressed, towards them.

He's tugging at his hair in despair when he hears someone taking a seat at the adjacent table.

He looks up to see a guy sat the table. The first thing he notices is that the guy is tiny, almost fragile as if he'll break. He looks uncomfortable, timid as he keeps fidgeting in his chair, keeps pressing his fingernail into his thumb, he doesn't look up even once, keeps his head low.

Kartik remembers seeing everyone avoid the cafeteria table in particular. He assumed it was forcedly reserved for one of the wannabe punks every college has. What Kartik didn't see coming was this meek guy.

"Kartik, I hope you're not a homophobe," Kanika says, worriedly.

"What? Of course, I'm not," he exclaims as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

He realizes he's pretty loud yet again as he draws attention yet again. This time he notices the guy looking up for the first time. The guy stares at him, his brows knitted in confusion, perhaps, because he's never seen him in the college before.

Of course, he's not a disgusting homophobe, for he's gay and this guy's brown eyes and everything about him seems to remind it to him over and over again. His hypothalamus has never been so proactive before.

He realizes he's staring and so is the guy only when a guy sits across the brown-eyed boy at the adjacent table. The guy goes back to looking down, digging holes into the table.

And Kartik desperately needs to put a name on this guy.

"Kartik, are you gay?" Kanika asks abruptly and Kartik almost chokes on his drink, drawing attention yet again.

He coughs but notices a ghost of a smile on the guy's face and suddenly he doesn't mind choking at all.

"How'd you know?" Kartik asks, feeling there is no point denying.

"My gaydar is pretty strong," she says, proudly.

"You're lesbian?" He asks, he doesn't even know why.

"Obviously, your gaydar doesn't catch signals, noted," she confirms disappointedly.

"Um. Who's he?" Kartik takes the silence as the opportunity to ask finally.

"I was waiting when you'd ask," Keshav cracks his knuckles and takes a deep breath and smirks knowingly.

"He's Aman Tripathi. The only guy who beats me in academics. He's gay and has a boyfriend who's likely to pierce your eyes if you even look at him so if you love your life don't approach him," Keshav finally breathes.

Kartik looks at the adjacent table and everything makes sense now. The bulky senior sitting opposite Aman who doesn't even bother to ask him before ordering. Aman sitting all alone at the table. People avoiding interaction with Aman.

If he wouldn't have been told by a trusted friend himself, he probably would have never believed that Aman and that muscular guy who exudes arrogance are a thing.

They look poles apart, both literally and metaphorically.

Nothing at the table imply they are in a relationship. There's no warmth, just a lingering silence waiting to be broke as Aman looks on longingly while the other guy stares at his phone not even bothering to look twice at Aman.

He sees Aman dejectedly setting his head down again. He starts pressing his fingernail again into his thumb. The previous slight tenderness was replaced by a more frequent and aggressive press.

And Kartik can't help but feel his heart aching for Aman.


	2. lifeboat

Kartik rushes in the corridors, hoping to reach his Mathematics lecture before the Professor does.

He enters the room hurriedly, elated to have reached on time. He scans the room for Keshav and Kanika. He spots them but they have no seats empty around.

Keshav gestures at Kanika and the girl sitting beside her. Kartik doesn't know her but judging by the way Kanika is looking at her, he can safely assume she's the same girl Kanika doesn't shut up about.

"I am an average gay and henceforth can't do Maths for shit. The only reason I tolerate that torture is because of Amayra shares that class with me," Kartik remembers Kanika crying as she brooded over the Mathematics exam and Kartik had nodded in agreement.

Kartik decides to give Kanika her leisure time. He rescans the room for an empty seat and notices a tiny guy sitting at the last bench, all alone.

Unlike all the stereotypes about nerds, Aman is seated at the last. Although there are many seats empty, he heads towards Aman.

He looks lonely, detached. Kartik feels a sudden urge to change that.

Amidst shocked glances and dramatic gasps, he reaches Aman's seat. Aman is dumbfounded.

As soon as Kartik takes a seat beside him, Aman starts to get up.

"Hey, you don't have to leave, you know," Kartik says softly.

"Are you suicidal? Or something?" Aman rebukes.

"Not everyone is scared of your boyfriend's muscles," Kartik shrugs nonchalantly.

Aman crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, I'm a bit scared," Kartik admits.

Aman stifles a laugh at his antics and Kartik can't help but think he's adorable.

"On a serious note, whatever you're trying, stop it. It'll just land both of us in trouble," Aman tells him, smiling weakly.

A smile so superficial that bears the weight of locking away the melancholy behind.

Kartik is about to stop Aman when the professor enters and Aman quickly takes another seat.

Kartik doesn't focus on Maths at all but someone occupies his mind and Kartik fails to understand.

Kartik fails to understand why can no one see the yearning in those downcast, brown eyes. Kartik fails to understand why can no one see hope slowly fading away as if the silver moon is waning behind the vagrant clouds. Kartik fails to understand why can no one hear Aman screaming for help. It is as if Aman is on a drowning boat, shouting and crying, surrounded by several boats and ships. He cries for help to no avail and eventually waits for the delirious waves to swallow him whole.

Kartik wants to be Aman's lifeboat.

♡

"What exactly were you trying to pull?" Kanika scolds him.

"What? You act like it's a crime to talk to him. Don't you see he's lonely? Doesn't he deserve friends?" Kartik half whispers, half screams, irritated by everyone's lack of empathy.

"Listen Kartik, we're not monsters. In fact, Aman used to hang out with at the start. We were good friends until his boyfriend came into the picture. He cut us off, we did not," Keshav claims.

"Did you bother to ask him what was wrong?" Kartik asks.

"We did everything we could," Kanika assures him.

Kartik thinks he was wrong. Aman is on a drowning boat. There are many boats willing to save him but he chooses to sink in the blue of hues of the water.

Somehow, this was far worse scenario.

♡

Aman is at the adjacent table, he has already ordered something so Kartik assumes his boyfriend won't be there today.

"You are not going to do what I'm thinking," Kanika glares as he stands up.

"Watch me," Kartik says, challengingly.

He goes to sit opposite Aman whose eyes go wide.

"Didn't I tell you to stop trying?" Aman scowls.

"Like I said I'm not afraid of your-"

"Who says it's about him? It's not about Varun. It's about me. I don't want to spend time with you," Aman quickly cuts him off.

"So you cut off Keshav and Kanika all of a sudden because you chose to?" Kartik questions.

Aman falls silent, presses his fingernail into his thumb so harshly that it starts bleeding.

"You're hurting yourself," Kartik whispers as he takes Aman's hand, examining the cut on his thumb worriedly.

Aman jerks his hand away and grits his teeth.

"Look, for the last fucking time, you don't know anything about me so don't act like you understand everything and fucking leave me alone," Aman spat out angrily.

"I want to know then, everything about you," Kartik says, refusing to give up.

Aman sighs. His anger dissipates in seconds. He doesn't know how to respond. Not every day someone approaches him. Not everyday he gets to talk to someone. A part of him wants to agree but there's another part of him, the rational one, that reminds him over and over again of dire consequences of his insolent decisions.

"I came midway, maybe you can help me catch up. You're like the scholar, right? Keshav and Kanika are all stressed about midterms too," Kartik tries to appeal Aman. He knows reuniting with Keshav and Kanika is tempting to Aman.

"We could say Professor Khanna said so. Nobody would know. Or I can even get permission signed if you want, for receipts?" Kartik, being a businessman's son knows how to make a deal that is unavoidable.

"Fine. Get your receipts and it can happen," Aman nods.

Aman's dangling hope seems to have got support, his spirit seems to have a rekindled with himself.

That day Kartik realized. Perhaps, if a lifeboat is perseverant enough, it can salvage even a wrecked boat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i wrote this instead of studying for my maths exam that is three days away.
> 
> because maths exam can wait but my motivation cannot.
> 
> and 
> 
> because gays can't do maths. periodt.


	3. epiphany

With receipts intact, and a little encouragement, a reluctant Aman agrees to help them with exams.

They are in a park near the college, sitting on the gruff green grass, under the open blue sky. There are beautiful lilies growing nearby, their exquisite fragrance refreshing Kartik. Kartik just wants to sit in the park and have leisure time but Aman's voice interrupts and stomps upon a myriad of his pleasant desires.

Aman informs them about the important questions that are most likely to greet them in exam.

Kartik can't help but feel Aman is more inclined towards Kanika and Keshav. He pays more attention to them, neglects Kartik most of the time when Kartik is the one who needs help the most.

Keshav, who has probably been prepared for exams for a week now, just nods trying to look interested while Kanika tries to overcome the tension and awkwardness between them by passing a comment every now and then when silence takes over.

Kartik sees Aman pressing his index finger's nail into his thumb again. He winces looking at the thumb. The cut looks deeper, most likely, because it is not aided. The thumb seems swollen and painful.

"You really need to stop doing that," Kartik says out loud unconsciously.

"What?" Aman asks.

"This," Kartik replies, pointing at Aman's movement of fingers.

Aman realizes everyone is now looking at his thumb and feeling self-conscious he restrains himself from pressing his thumb again.

"It has become quite a habit," Aman tries to justify.

"But it's hurting you. The cut might get deeper or even get infected," Kartik worries, distraught.

"It just helps with anxiety," Aman says, not looking up even once, clearly feeling a bit embarrassed.

Aman is again subtly pressing his nail into the thumb. Kartik realizes it's instinctive. It's like some coping mechanism Aman has adapted to counter anxiety.

"Pehle toh nahi karta tha tu," Keshav states.

(You didn't use to do it earlier.)

Sensing it's a touchy topic, Kanika interrupts, "I got to go. It's two-thirty. I have a date with Amayra at three."

"Date? It's not called a date. It's called 'guilt-tripping someone till they give in'," Keshav chuckles.

"Whatever helps you sleep," Kanika sticks her tongue out, teasingly.

"Wait, I'll drop you," Keshav insists.

Aman suddenly clears throat, "I wanted to say something."

He takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry for cutting you off abruptly. I didn't mean to hurt you. I can't really give you an explanation... I'm just sorry," Aman finally looks up towards Keshav and Kanika.

His eyes are remorseful as if pleading silently for apology to be expected.

"Yeh sahi hai. Ignore karo phir sorry bol do," Kanika taunts.

(This is great. Ignore us and then say sorry.)

Aman just looks down, looking ashamed.

"Majak kar rhi hai yarr. Tereko toh pata hi hai na kaisi pagal hai," Keshav says, laughing.

(She's joking. You know what a complete fool she is, right?)

"Sacchi?" Aman asks.

(Really?)

"Haan, duffer. Dost hai tere. Aisi choti choti friendship main badi badi baatein toh hoti rehti hai. Bas phir mat kariyo. Yahaan dard hota hai," Kanika dramatically holds her left side of her heart.

(Yes, dumbass. We're your friends. Big big issues keep happening in small, small friendships. Just don't do it again, it hurts here.)

All of them start laughing at Kanika's dramatic dialogues. The air around feels lighter now. Breathing is easier now.

Kartik can see Aman can feel the same. Kanika and Keshav leave shortly for Kanika's 'date' with Amayra as Keshav pleads to be the third wheel. Kartik swears he has never seen someone be so excited to third wheel.

Aman has the same expressions but the vibes he emits now feel euphoric and blissful. Something about this Aman is different. He glows differently.

Aman starts marking important questions from the examination point of view. He explains Kartik a few concepts that are keys to answers.

Kartik doesn't know how much will this help in exams or how much did he actually hear or retain. All Kartik knows he won't regret this even if he fails.

Aman, in someone else's eyes, might look like an average looking guy. There's nothing spectacular about him. But to Kartik, he's adorable, beautiful in a way this judgemental society could never perceive.

Aman's voice is calming, he talks softly, quietly. He sometimes stumbles on words, grunts and sighs. All of it sounds like a melody to his ears.

The melody, unfortunately, is interrupted. Aman's phone rings. Since Kartik was sitting so close to Aman, he saw the caller's name.

Varun.

It's Aman's boyfriend.

And Kartik doesn't understand.

Kartik doesn't understand why does Aman's glow suddenly vanish? Why does he look pale? Why does his breath become irregular? Why does he seem reluctant to pick the call? Why does he start pressing his thumb aggressively?

Isn't your boyfriend supposed to be someone you yearn to talk to?

Aman picks the call.

"Hi... Yeah, I'm near the college," He pauses.

Kartik can't hear anything except muffled noises but he does sense something wrong when Aman starts pressing his nail harder into the thumb.

He does it harder each time, Kartik wants to stop him but he couldn't in time. Aman's thumb starts bleeding but he doesn't seem to care, he keeps doing it over and over again.

He winces but doesn't stop, blood spreads over his fingers but he doesn't stop.

"It's not like that, Varun. It completely skipped from my min-" Aman answers but is cut off, Kartik guesses.

"Varun, please hear me out onc-", Aman almost begs, helplessness lingers his voice.

He puts down his phone. His blood-stained hands tug at his hair in frustration or despair, Kartik couldn't make out.

"I have to leave," Aman says, collecting his material.

"Your thumb," Kartik says, worried since it really looks bad.

"Doesn't matter," Aman whispers, leaving.

And Kartik wants to scream, tell him it does. It does matter. His pain matters. His anxiety matters. He matters.

♡

Contrary to his own expectations, Kartik studies when he goes back home. Mostly to distract himself from the endless loop of Aman in his head, but he does study.

Solving the important questions he faces a lot of problems and so he plans to meet Aman and resolve his queries today.

He occupies the seat next to Aman quickly, asking him the queries.

Aman solves them, explains it to him. Kartik realizes Aman is a great teacher, even though, he's not good with words. He gets a point through with minimal words and maximal understanding.

"So, again after college?" Kartik asks. Although the question was meant to be rhetorical, it didn't end up so.

"Actually I can't continue doing this," Aman lets out meekly.

"Why? It has been a day? Am I that bad of a student?"

"It's not you. I just have other things to do," Aman retorts.

"Like?"

"Like... gym?" Aman can't believe he said gym. Even in utter panic, that's the last thing he was likely to do.

"Really? You're a terrible liar. Just say you don't want to spend time with me. It's not that difficult," Kartik snapped, he can't help but feel bitter.

"It's not like that, really. You're a good companion," Aman admits a bit shyly.

"It's Varun. Isn't it?"

Aman's panicked eyes meet him, he looks like his deepest secret has been unveiled.

"N-no, Varun has nothing to do with it," he stutters.

"Like I said you're a terrible liar. He tries to control everything, doesn't he? Your friends? Your time? Doesn't he?" Kartik confronts. Kartik doesn't even know Varun in person but literally anyone can see what he is trying to do and Kartik feels the need. Need to make Aman admit. Need to make Aman know he needs to stand up for himself.

"That's bullshit. He really cares for me. He loves me. Wishes the best for me," Aman says, gasping at Kartik's accuse.

He's not lying. Kartik sees through all lies that Aman spews. It's a hard pill for Kartik to swallow. But it's true. Aman really believes Varun loves him. He really believes Varun cares for him. The purity in his eyes as he says it is the testimony. The resent in his words due to Kartik's words is the testimony.

"So what was his reason now? What is the harm in helping a guy who came midterm? Or do you blindly accept whatever he says?" Kartik clutches his fists, his knuckles are turning white.

He's agitated, angry at Aman even though he knows it is not Aman's fault. But what angers him the most is that Aman believes this person so blindly that he cannot see that this monster is seeping his claws deep into his skin; that Aman trusts this person so truly that he cannot feel his fangs biting; that Aman loves this person so purely that he can't see he doesn't deserve him.

Kartik thinks he was wrong again. Just when he thought this scenario cannot get worse, he found that Aman is on a drowning boat and Aman doesn't know that the boat is drowning, it won't take him to his destined utopia but rather would sink him deep.

Every time Kartik plunges into this abyss called Aman, he collects broken pieces laced by fallacious believes. He wishes one day he'll collect all the pieces and form the whole.

But the thing is he's afraid to find another broken fragment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys my math exam went well :')  
> your wishes worked. thank you <3


	4. a forgotten date

It's the examination day. And Kartik feels jitters like the day his twelfth board's results came out.

He sat in the exam and his mind went blank looking at the set of questions. It all went over his head. Kartik doesn't want good marks or anything he is just hoping he passes. 

He does whatever he could in a very little time which isn't much. He tries to ask Kanika who sits just a before him. She isn't much help but does ensure two or three more marks.

Kartik is about to give up when he glances around to see Keshav, who is sitting a few benches behind, vigorously scribbling.

He looks ahead and spots Aman looking back at him, it takes Kartik off guard because it was pretty unexpected. Aman raises his eyebrow at him in an attempt to ask if he wants help.

Kartik nods his head, quickly signalling Aman to answer him first ten questions which are objective type.

Aman looks around to ensure they're safe and mouths a few answers and gestures the other few.

Kartik signals a thumbs up and mouths a 'thank you' as Aman shakes his head at him and sighs but Kartik doesn't miss the slight smile.

Kartik thought they had quite a fight so Aman won't talk to him but Aman seems to have called a truce and Kartik feels exhilarated.

"So how did it go?" Kanika asks as they exit the hall.

"Easy tha," Keshav and Aman say simultaneously.

(It was easy.)

Kanika rolls her eyes at them.

"Of course, it'll be easy for you two.

"I'll pass. Probably wouldn't have if it weren't for Aman," Kartik states gratefully.

Kanika looks awfully shocked and turns to Aman, profusely inquiring, "You helped Kartik?"

Aman just nods and she hits him playfully.

"You never tell me," she accuses and pouts.

"He just caught my eyes at the right time," Aman clarifies.

"Chalo yeh sab chodo. Kahi relax karne chalte hai," Kanika offers.

(Leave this, guys. Let's go relax somewhere.)

Keshav and Kartik immediately agree and all three of them look at Aman expectantly.

He twirls his pen in his hand and is blushing like a bride as he says, " I can't come actually. I have a date with Varun."

His cheeks are a light tint of pink. Kartik would have swooned over it if the thought of the date wasn't burning a hole in him.

"Where are you going?" Kanika nudges Aman, teasingly.

"Nowhere special. Just the nearby restaurant," he replies.

"Hum bhi wahi chalte hai na. Maine suna hai acchi jagah hai," Keshav suggests.

(Let's go there. Why don't we? I've heard it's a nice place.)

Aman doesn't look supportive of the decision at all but goes along it because he doesn't have any valid reasons to stop them.

They reach the restaurant. It indeed is a nice place, Kartik feels. A small but cosy place. It's warm in here. Neon lights lit around the navy blue walls, flowers vases kept beautifully embellishing the room, tapestries hung on the walls. Young couples sitting on tables having a great time. The atmosphere was light and refreshing. Kartik thinks it was a good idea to be here and he'll be here more often.

They decide to let Aman sit on a separate table as Varun is yet to reach while three of them sit separately.

The waitress comes to their table. They place their orders and wait. They young seeming waitress goes to Aman as well. He tells her he's waiting for someone and she kindly nods in understanding.

It took about ten minutes for their order to arrive and Varun is yet to arrive. Aman is growing anxious, Kartik can tell by the frequency of the movement on his fingertips raining on his thumb. Aman keeps glancing at his phone.

The waitress again asks Aman for his order dutifully who again excuses himself.

Ten minutes became twenty and another ten passed painfully slow for all of them but especially Aman.

They are done with their food. Aman is yet to order. Now, it's not just Aman who keeps glancing at the restaurant's door and checking his phone. All of them are. Even the waitress looks at Aman sympathetically. She has stopped asking for the order after the third time when she notices Aman feeling guilty.

Kartik watches Aman's nail pressing into his thumb quicker each minute. Kartik watches hope vanishing from his eyes each passing second. Kartik watches Aman tightly smiling at them. Kartik watches until he could not.

It's been about forty-five minutes. Kartik gets up and sits across Aman. 

The waitress is to take the opportunity and Kartik realizes that.

"A full chilli paneer pepperoni pizza and coke," Kartik finally orders. The waitress sighs and smiles in gratitude.

"How'd you know I like that?" Aman wonders.

"I asked Kanika, Sherlock," Kartik tries to lighten spirits.

Aman smiles warily, checking his phone again.

"Have you messaged or called him?" Kartik inquires.

"Both. He doesn't reply or picks up. He must be busy," Aman justifies.

"What's more important than a date?" Kartik scoffs.

"There must be something," Aman's voice trembles, it comes out as a mere whisper.

"He'll be here in just a while," Aman assures. Kartik feels Aman said those words were more to himself than Kartik.

The pizza is there after a while but Varun isn't.

Kartik looks at Keshav and Kanika who look like have lost all the hopes. They just want him to make sure Aman doesn't feel hurt.

Kartik knows he's going to fail. Looking at Aman right now, he has already failed. Aman's eyes are proof. They shimmer with helplessness.

"Stop doing that. It gives me anxiety," Kartik suddenly complains.

"What?" Aman realizes it's his continuous habit.

He bits his lower lip. He doesn't want his emotions to break free. He doesn't want to let go off this façade because if he lets go everyone would know. Everyone will see. Everyone will witness. Everyone will detest.

Kartik holds his hand smoothly. 

"Let me see," he says, examining how thumb carefully. He winces. Aman looks at his thumb and realizes it really looks worse than he thought.

Kartik keeps holding his wrist softly as he searches from something in his pocket.

Kartik's touch feels soft, safe, just different. Although his fingertips are callous, they don't feel harsh. It's almost soothing, Aman is afraid to admit.

Kartik takes out a band-aid from his pocket. But it's not just one, a whole packet.

Kartik carefully places it over his cut. He flinches a bit and Kartik start placing it as gradually as possible, rubbing comforting circles in his palms.

Aman thinks it's oddly affectionate and sweet.  
Aman grins.

"You carry band-aids?" Aman asks.

"I carry a whole packet, you know. Because a stupid friend of mine doesn't stop doing stupid shit," Kartik tells him.

Aman hears a door opening in distance and his head turns almost instinctively.

It's Varun.

He stands at the door. Staring hardly. His warm dark brown eyes suddenly aren't warm anymore. They are icy, a wild streak takes over them. His jaw tightens, making it look even more defined. 

He takes big steps, clicking sharply against the restaurant's marble stone. They ring in his ears.

Kartik has finally acknowledged Varun's presence. Kartik has a scowl on his face and he grits his teeth looking at Varun.

Varun acknowledges Kartik too. That's when his eyes lost all its jovial warmth.

Aman wants to say something. Defend the situation. Blame the damned timing. But his throat goes dry. He couldn't even manage to utter a word until he feels a strong hand trapping his wrist in a bruising grip. Until he feels himself being yanked up from the chair, so harshly the chair falls due to impact. Until several eyes dig holes into his body.

Until he hears Kartik yelling loudly, " What do you think you're doing?"

Until Varun lets a menacing glare take over his face, growling back "Stay out of this." 

He feels grip around his wrist tighten. He tries to loosen the grip, struggling to uncoil the fingers from around his wrists. It's futile.

"It's not what it looks like, Varun. It really isn't. Please hear me out," he lets out meekly.

His voice shivers. He sounds pathetic, he hates sounding like this; weak, vulnerable.

He pleas are unheard as he's dragged out, there's no grace in it.

He sheds all the pieces of his dignity as he begs for Varun to hear him out just once.

Kartik just looks on as the untouched pizza on the table grows cold.

Kartik just looks on as he watches water climbing up the boat. As he watches the boat gradually drift in an abyss of unknown. Kartik just looks on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if my quick updates start getting annoying, please let me know.
> 
> i write when i can't fall asleep.


	5. he's withering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to @dhyanshiva who has been kind enough to help me with her inputs. thank you very much and to everyone who reads and reviews.
> 
> the song in italics is cherry wine by hozier. it's a heartbreaking and beautiful song check it out. this has also been suggested by dhyan.
> 
> trigger warning: graphic violence, implied self harm, implied non con in this chapter as well that follows.

Varun doesn't hear him even once. Aman's persistent justifications fall deaf on his ears.

He just grits his teeth.

"Shut the fuck up, Aman, before I make you," he threatens. Aman chooses to seal his lips because Varun's deep, mellow, honey-like voice has dropped a few octaves which have only ever meant trouble.

Aman remembers the voice distinctively, it has murmured so many eulogies in his ears that made his heart flutter in a way it never has, it has whispered so many promises laying foundation of their hollow relationship. He realized all these promises are never meant to be kept but it was too late. The jar of his hopes shattered, the fireflies in it stopped glowing, they just flew away. The light diminishes as they fly away slowly and slowly till there are unreachable by the eyes. They might still glow but it's like a dream that rushed by, vague and drifting into nothingness.

( Aman is on the bed. But he's not alone. Warm hands engulf his bare chest in a back hug. He feels a hand softly running a hand through his hair.

"You're the best thing that has happened to me," the same mellow voice mutters. Aman swears its delicacy can alone melt him.

"One day we're gonna marry. Live together, forever and happily, like in all those fairy tales. I'll tell your dad, I've fallen in love your son and I shall make him mine," Aman laughs but the sincerity in those words spreads tenderness through his chest.

Varun's hot breath tickles his ears. Varun chastely places a kiss on his shoulder. It feels like home.)

Aman is afraid he doesn't recognize this voice. It feels unfamiliar, it doesn't bring him any warmth, just stirs a strange fear inside him.

_Her eyes and words are so icy_  
_Oh but she burns_  
_Like rum on the fire_  
_Hot and fast and angry as she can be_  
_I walk my days on a wire._

Varun grabs his wrists again. Aman doesn't try to get rid of the firm hold. He knows it's vain. Varun is very strong and he's very proud of that as well. He never misses a chance to exhibit a display of his strength. It never bothered Aman until a few months ago.

( Aman slouched comfortably on the couch watching a web series he's been wanting to watch for very long. Varun is off to hit the gym and he munches in his popcorn.

It's been about two hours. Aman thinks Varun will be home any time.

The door opens. Varun steps in, bathed in sweat. He intends to step towards him and give him a kiss but Aman stops him.

"Stay away from me. You stink," Aman warns.

"Or? What are you gonna do?" Varun crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow.

Aman just looks backcrossing his arms as well, he smirks.

"Fine," Varun leaves for a shower and Aman is left to watch his web series in peace.

*

"Just one more episode," Aman whines, snatching the remote from Varun who lets him have it.

"You've been saying it for the whole past hour," Varun complains.

"I have a better plan than this boring web series," Varun whispers seductively.

"Oh? Really? What is it?" He asks, innocently.

"Bed," Varun says.

"Yes but after one episode," Aman goes back to his show.

"How about a no?" Varun asks, plugging the TV off as Aman whines loudly in background.

In no time, Varun's arms are around his waist and under his legs as he carried Aman to the adjacent room.

Aman wraps his hands around Varun's neck.

"You always do this," Aman protests.

"And you always pretend that you don't like it," Varun exclaims. )

Aman just smiles bitterly at the memory. The way he loved being in Varun's strong arms. They felt safe, they felt like home.

Aman doesn't recognize these hands, roughly grabbing his wrist in a painful seize. It hurts and Aman is sure it's gonna leave an ugly purple bruise. But who's he lying to? It's nothing new.

_It looks ugly, but it's clean,_  
_Oh momma, don't fuss over me._  
_The way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine_  
_Open hand or closed fist would be fine The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine._


	6. purple constellations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just realized I was supposed to write the things in notes in the last chapter not in the summary.
> 
> anyways, lack of sleep does that to you
> 
> tw: graphic violence, implied non con, implied self harm.
> 
> please don't read if it triggers you.

They are in the apartment. Aman calls it his second home. Everything in here feels intimate, close. There are pictures hung on the walls, they look awfully happy in them. Together, they have joy glimmers in their eyes. Aman wonders what went wrong?

These four walls feel nothing like a home rather a like a prison he is shackled in like a prized possession. There are all the luxuries he could want but nothing that he needs. The walls are closing in gradually, Aman feels one day there will be no space to even breath anymore. He will be squeezed in the trap, suffocating breathlessly and he would never make an escape. Despite the door being wide open, these shackles clutching his ankles would never let him go.

"How many times did I tell you to stay away from him?" Varun growls dangerously. It almost sounds animalistic.

"It isn't what it looks like. He's just a friend," Aman defends, his voice quivers like a fading leave on an autumn tree.

"Isn't it too intimate for a friend?" Varun spits back venomously. His voice is low, but sharp at edges, just the right voice to send shivers down his spine.

His eyes aren't warm and soft now. They're narrow and cold. They carry an obsessive and possessive streak. Now he thinks about it, it has been there for long enough. Just that Aman couldn't notice the compulsive streak soon enough. And now he's captive to their unreliable sentiments.

"It was almost an hour, you didn't show up. He was just-," Aman starts to defend only to be cut off.

"So, it's my fault now?" Varun's lips curl in a cold sneer. His fists too clench tightly.

"I'm going to kill him with my own two hands," Varun screams as he slams the glass vase off the table. It shatters with a loud noise. The lilies decorating the vase fall down, they already appear to be withering. Aman flinches but steps forward courageously.

He wraps his hand around Varun, rubs his back in an attempt to calm Varun down.

"Varun, calm down," Aman whispers lowly.

"It isn't Kartik's fault," he utters. That's the last thing Aman wants for Kartik to get tangled in this mess. The very idea of seeing Kartik hurt, weirdly gives him enough strength to say it.

Aman looks up. His eyes meet a pair he doesn't recognize. They are blind with rage, like a fire scorching every time in reach.

Fingers grip his hair so tightly, his scalp burns. His hands instinctively reach for the arm grabbing his hand.

"It isn't his fault, huh?" Varun roars, his voice loud and booming.

He shakes Aman brutally with his hair.

Aman's eyes are burning with unshed tears. His throat is aching. He chokes back a sob

"Varun p-please. Hurts. Hurts," he chants like a mantra, his fuzzy head unable to form coherent sentences.

His hands miserably try to seek relief from the agony.

Varun then lets go of his hair abruptly, causing Aman to crash harshly into the ground.

Aman cries out in pain. But there's more to come.

Varun estranged his hands in Aman's hair again, making him stand up on his feet again. Tears are now freely falling down Aman's face, Varun doesn't seem to be affected by them.

He slaps Aman across the face only for Aman to fall down again. Aman wails pathetically.

Aman feels a sharp slap across his face. He feels fingertips burning into his face. His ears are ringing. His hand reaches to his stinging cheek. It's humiliating, the way Varun is tossing him around like a rag doll.

It is not the first time Varun has slapped him but it hurts like the first time. The pain or the humiliation, nothing has reduced, it's the same, if not more painful.

Varun is merciless as he kicks his abdomen in swift violent motion, rapidly. Aman falls short of breath, his screams stop in his throat. He chokes on the coppery liquid in his mouth.

His ribs ache. The anguish is unbearable. His eyes are blurry with tears, everything seems to be whirling. His head hurts, everything hurts.

"You're pathetic. Look at you, fucking useless," Varun yells, amidst his gut-wrenching sobs.

He bends down to Aman level, pulling him up as he holds his jaw.

"Do you think anyone can love someone as pathetic as you? Nobody would love you. Nobody," Aman knows this heinous voice all too well. It plays in his head. It reels him back to reality. Telling him he's worthless, he should be grateful if someone even cares about him.

Aman withers like the fallen lilies in a distance.

Suddenly the seize on his jaw falls loose, Varun falls on his knees, his eyes don't look horrifying anymore, he cries in despair.

"Aman," he cries.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, oh my god, I'm so sorry," he cries.

"Forgive me, please forgive me, I don't know what took over, I love you," he holds his face with right those arms that have inflicted such torture on him.

"I love you, Aman, you know that."

It's funny, Aman thinks that he could predict each word that has been uttered. Every time, Varun repeats the same words like a broken tape recorder.

It's even funnier, Aman thinks that he forgives Varun each time.

So he just cries in the arms of the person who's the reason for his tears. Because this voice in his head tells him, 'Varun loves you. Nobody would ever love you except Varun.'

_Calls of guilty thrown at me_   
_All while she stains_   
_The sheets of some other_   
_Thrown at me so powerfully_   
_Just like she throws with the arm of her brother._

_But I want it_   
_It's a crime That she's not around most of the time._

*

Aman wakes up the next morning, he feels tired, he doesn't feel pain, he doesn't feel at all. A numbness washes over him and Aman thinks pain would have been better. At least he would have known it would hurt lesser with time. This numbness just gets worse.

He wants to fall back asleep but the disgusting feeling on his skin urges him to wash it away.

Aman wakes up to chaos. The room is a reflection of his state, a mess. He looks at the withered lilies, the broken vase, the red-stained bed sheets.

He rushes to the bathroom. He scrubs off his skin strenuously. It reopens a few cuts, hurts his bruising ribs but he wants to get rid of the despicable feeling. Feeling of Varun's lingering touches, his kisses all over his body.

His skin turns red, but nothing is enough. He looks in the mirror, he hates this person in the mirror. Weak, helpless and vulnerable.

Ugly mauve bruises lace his skin like constellations. If only he were a cosmos.

But these bruises don't hurt him. They heal, they fade. These tears running down from his puffy, bloodshot eyes hurt more for they grow into his being.

He thinks he has never seen someone more hideous than the person in the mirror. He takes the nearest thing he could grab and slams it into the mirror. It shatters. It calms Aman down. The dreadful sight is no more but his existence still remains.

His eyes find a silver metal. He holds it to his skin. Silver turns red. Another scar finds its place on canvas of his skin.

It calms Aman down. It helps Aman escape. It makes him feel better.

_Her fight and fury is fiery_   
_Oh but she loves_   
_Like sleep to the freezing_   
_Sweet and right and merciful_   
_I'm all but washed In the tide of her breathing._   
_And it's worth it, it's divine_   
_I have this some of the time._


	7. Sirius

It's been three days, there is no sight of Aman on the campus. And Kartik is worried sick.

Kartik never thought something would make him feel more anxious than exams, taking in consideration how his father would mercilessly reprimand him if he ever scored low. But now he's standing at the college's gate just hoping for Aman to show up just like he has been doing for the past three days.

He has been getting little to no ounce of sleep because every time he tries to empty his head, it's filled with every glimpse at Aman's broken fragments. A part of him feels guilty for what happened at the restaurant. Although, he knows it wasn't his fault at all.

He sees Varun on the campus each day, though. It makes blood running in his veins boil. Everything about Varun infuriates him. His pompous demeanour, cocky smirk that he passes every time he looks at Kartik, the forge kindness he shows off. The way he walks with sleek pride and chivalry. The fact that there is no sign of lament on his face. The fact that the most undeserving person is the one who is loved by someone as pure as Aman.

It's an examination day, Kartik's hopes to see Aman today are stronger. The bell for examination to begin rings, it feels as if all the last string of his hopes are cut off. He dejectedly enters the examination hall. Aman's seat at the front is empty. He heads to his seat, his face crestfallen.

Kanika and Keshav are not present today because their exams are done. That makes his mood even bleaker.

He just stares blankly at the answer sheet. He vaguely hears a knock at the door, he doesn't pay much attention until a voice resonates in the hall, "May I come in?"

He head snaps to the door. It's Aman. He looks exhausted. His hair is tousled, eyes sleep-deprived, he walks with a limp. His face looks odd, even from far.

Kartik tries to concentrate on the exam the entire time but he keeps looking at Aman.

The exam finishes painfully slow and as soon as he does he rushes to Aman's side. He chooses not to talk. He realizes he has land Aman in trouble and he doesn't really want to become a thorn for Aman.

But that doesn't mean he isn't allowed to look. Aman's face looks horrible at a closer glance. His right cheek is swollen, there's a cut just above his eyebrow. There's a thin layer of some cosmetic coating few areas of his cheek and neck. It's messily done, as if in hurry. Kartik can easily comprehend it's a concealer.

It's almost April. Aman is wearing a full-sleeved T-Shirt. Kartik pretends he doesn't know why.

Kartik wants to ask who did this but then internally laughs at the foolish question. He knows, Aman knows he knows. There's no point.

Kartik wonders if science and technology can develop a concealer that can obscure raw torment in someone's eyes. Maybe then it would be more bearable to look at Aman.

Kartik leaves as his heart becomes heavy with guilt.

*

A little takes Kartik aback. But he can swear when Aman sat across him at the lunch table and asked him, "Wanna hang out?"

It really, really took him aback.

"After what happened?" Kartik asks and he immediately wants to whack himself for bringing it up.

"Varun has gone to his parents for a few days," Aman explains.

"Are you sure about this?" Kartik unsurely asks.

"It's okay if you don't wanna go. I'll find someone else," Aman tells him, standing up.

"No, no. Wait. I'll come," Kartik hurriedly stops Aman, holding his wrist on instinct.

Aman winces and he immediately lets go of his wrist brushing up his sleeve in the motion. Kartik doesn't miss ugly shade of purple peeking from underneath.

"Stop acting like you have someone else to go with," Kartik resorts to ease the tension.

Aman chuckles slightly in acknowledgement.

"Where do you wanna go?" Kartik asks.

"There's a chole bhature wala near college."

"I thought you were restaurant types."

"No. I hate restaurants. Nothing extraordinary and expensive and suffocating," Aman scorns.

'Like Varun,' Aman wants to add.

Each day Aman pays the lofty expense for falling for a guy who was like a restaurant. Grand and classy. It's luxurious at first but then walls start closing in, they crumble in a heap, right on you and you can't breathe without feeling fingers pressing your throat. You can't really afford them every day.

They're at the food stall now. He orders himself at the plate, waits for Kartik to order.

Kartik looks reluctant.

"I don't really like chole bhature," he says.

Aman gasps dramatically, "You gotta be kidding me? Try this. The best thing ever."

Aman insists. Kartik wonders if anyone can say no to that face.

They sit there on the rusty benches in front of the vendor's stall. Aman feels it's more comfortable than the chairs at the restaurant.

"This really is something," Kartik mumbles beside him with his mouth full.

"Told you," Aman says, almost proudly.

He looks at Kartik again. He's busy praising the vendor, even asking him to go for MasterChef.

It amuses Aman. It's adorable, he feels. It also confuses him, one appreciates everything and other nothing.

Aman thinks he likes this more; this soft zephyr blowing, the gentle aroma in the air, rusty benches; comfortable, affordable and simple.

They go to the part near college after. Just laying on the soft green grass, a bit wet with few. The sun is about to meet the horizon. They just look at the wide expanse of the sky above.

No words are exchanged. There's just silence. Somehow, the silence speaks more than any words could.

Their eyes meet. They just stare back at each other. The atmosphere is pacifying, like the cool tides of the ocean, washing their feet with its periodic to and fro motion, taking away all the worries along. It's tranquillizing like listening to halcyon at the winter solstice, the melody lulling you into a misty sweet dream.

Time passes awfully fast for both of them. They bask in orange and red hues of the drowning sun.

"Wanna come with me? Gotta take you somewhere," Kartik whispers from the position. His eyes still don't leave Aman's.

Aman finally breaks off the eye contact as he gets up. Kartik too gets him answer.

"Not as impressive as your boyfriend's bike but does the job," Kartik jokes and immediately regrets it.

But Aman just smiles, "That's all that matters at the end."

Kartik gets on the bike. Aman finds his space at the back. Kartik feels Aman's hands around his shoulder. Kartik assumes it's just for a bit support.

He looks at Aman from the mirror, the wind is tousling his hair but he looks content.

Aman's arms feel warm. He wants them to always engulf him.

They reach Kartik's home. His father will be home later.

It's night now. The silver full moon has graced the beautiful night, peaking in and out of the grey clouds.

They get in and Aman's about to sit on the sofa when Kartik informs him," Not here. Upstairs."

Kartik guides him upstairs. There's a small room at the roof. Kartik enters it but Aman is busy staring at the night sky. It's breath-taking.

"This is nothing. Light pollution in cities ruins the beauty of the night," Kartik says loudly from the room.

"Back then in Punjab, the stars looked so clear, so exquisite. They were a joy to experience," he adds on.

Kartik finally comes out the room, carrying a stand and a, what Aman is almost sure is, telescope.

"A little help?"

Aman immediately takes the stand from Kartik placing it down. Kartik cradles the telescope carefully in his arms like it's a baby.

"You really have a telescope?" Aman asks astonished.

"Aha! Fought papa for an entire week, threatened him with bhook hartal before he bought me this," Kartik exclaims.

"You must really love all this universe and stuff, then."

Kartik laughs, "No. It's nothing like that. Mum passed away when I was seven. So like what they tell ever naive child, they told me mum became a star."

Kartik pauses, smiling at the memory.

"I used to go to the roof every day, sit there for hours. It made me full less alone as if there is someone with me."

Aman listens intently. It makes his heart flutter. Looking at Kartik, he feels like he's put his heart in his hand, showing him all of himself.

"Then someone told me about the telescope. I did everything I could to get papa to buy it for me. Grew up, started learning, and came to know that stars are just balls of gases one day, the way it broke my heart," Kartik reminisces.

Aman laughs softly. Kartik loves it when Aman laughs. It's brief but his deep voice resonates merrily.

"I always come here in special moments. When I'm bursting with joy, when I'm shuddering with misery," Kartik tells him whilst he sets up the telescope on the stand. He looks through it, moves it around a bit searchingly.

He keeps struggling for a while until he stops.

"Don't move it, just look," Kartik warns him.

"That's Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky. Beautiful, isn't it?"

Aman looks awed. He doesn't utter a word because the question obviously is rhetorical. It is beyond anything he's ever seen.

Kartik rearranges the telescope, motions him to look through it.

"Moon. You can see it through naked eyes too but you don't see the flaws too clearly, do you? Look at all those craters yet the moon is the most beautiful celestial body," Kartik breathes, looking at the sky. Affection is distinct in his eyes. Clearly, it's the most transparent he could be.

Aman admires Kartik's efforts. It's a fascinating experience for him. He's not really someone who is keenly interested in nature but this is absolutely gorgeous. Something he'd love doing every day.

"If you're lucky, you'll probably get to see Orion," Kartik tells him, rearranging the telescope again.

"The seven star constellation?" Aman confirms.

Kartik looks at him questioningly.

"What? I know a bit," Aman defends, smiling sheepishly.

"Since it's just after sunset, it must be climbing towards the south-east," Kartik whispers.

"You know a lot," Aman's voice is laced with awe and admiration.

"It's been quite a long while. You should be surprised if I didn't know," Kartik retorts.

"My god! Guess you're lucky, I got it," Kartik exclaims.

Aman lets him have his eureka moment before he has his own as he gazes at the celestial beauties through the telescope.

"Was it fun? Or I bored you?" Kartik asks him.

"I'll never forget this," Aman whispers, he smiles gratefully. It's so honest and sincere, Kartik wants to give every little joy to him for him to keep smiling the way he does right now.

"So what's special about tonight? Joy or misery?"

Kartik shakes his head.

"Just a special person."

*


	8. a broken fragment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: self harm
> 
> I beg you to not read if it triggers you. Also, self harm is a serious issue. I, in no way, mean to glorify it. It's necessary to seek help in such issues. Please don't it this.

"Kartik! Kaha hai?" A deep and gruff voice yells.

(Kartik! Where are you?)

"Chatt par hoon. Aata ho papa," Kartik bellows back, rushing closer to the door.

(I'm on the terrace. Will be down in a bit, papa.)

"I should leave too," Aman says, he sounds a bit reluctant.

"It's late now. Stay tonight," Kartik insists.

It's barely 8:15. Who is he baffling? Obviously, not late.

"Alright, then."

Kartik is surprised Aman agreed so easily. He's usually resilient. Kartik can't help but think Aman himself wants to stay. Stay a bit longer.

Kartik doesn't really understand why but it fills him with an unconditional joy.

They climb down the stairs.

"Won't your dad mind?"

"Dad? He's the most laid back and chilled person ever."

They reach down. Kartik's dad doesn't notice Aman at first but when he does, he raises an eyebrow at Kartik.

"Dost hai, papa," Kartik clarifies.

(He's a friend, dad)

"Pehle toh nahi lae kisi dost ko ghar par," Kartik's dad wonders.

(You never bring friends home.)

"Ab le aaya na. Aap yeh sab rehne do, main khana ka dekhta hoon," Kartik changes the subject, noticing Aman fidgeting.

(Brought one home now, okay? Leave this. I'm going to cook us dinner.)

"Tu bhi rehne de. Bahar se laya hoon aaj," Kartik's dad replies.

(You leave all of this too. I've brought food from outside.)

Kartik takes the food package from his dad and heads to kitchen to get the food served. Aman follows him, wanting to help when Kartik's dad scolds him as he ushers him on the dining table.

Kartik's dad attempts to small talk, noticing Aman's discomfort. Aman replies to his inquisitive inquiries sincerely except he's nervous and keeps pressing his nail into his thumb.

Lately, Aman has himself noticed the frequency of his action and how the cut deepens. It's unhygienic and might get affected. He wants to stop doing that, he compels himself to avoid doing that but can't help but revert to the same mechanism.

"Kya bore kar rhe ho ise aap, papa," Kartik exclaims coming in the dining room with a platter in his hand.

(What are you boring him about, dad?)

Aman quickly stands up to help Kartik who gratefully accepts it this time.

They have dinner in mostly silence. Kartik inquires his dad about his day who enthusiastically tells him each detail like a young child does while Kartik listens willingly. The dynamic is amusing to watch and listen to. Aman reminisces such an intimate conversation with his father. It feels like a vague, faded away dream now. He smiles sourly.

Aman vocally offers to help Kartik to do the dishes only to be sent to Kartik's room with the advice of loosening up and stop fretting.

"Thoda zyada shaant hai na?" Kartik's dad says, helping Kartik with the messed kitchen.

(Isn't he too quiet?)

"Hai toh," Kartik smiles.

(Indeed.)

"Accha lagta hai na tujhe?" Kartik's dad teases. He doesn't miss the way Kartik kept glimpsing at Aman at the dinner table neither did he miss Kartik taking Aman to the terrace, knowing well that only special people have access to Kartik's telescope.

(You like him, don't you?)

"Kya papa? Aisa kuch nhi hai," Kartik whines but the pink tint staining his cheeks says otherwise.

(What, papa? It's nothing like that.)

"Haan haan, dikh raha hai itna bhi nhi pasand tujhe," he chides.

(Of course, it's obvious you don't like him even a bit.)

They continue bickering and bantering like they always do.

*

Aman scans Kartik's room. It's bold and outrageous. Like Kartik. The walls are painted navy blue, white curtains hang from either side of the window, the colours contrast each other beautifully. Several frames hang from the walls but the people in them are constant. Kartik, in different phases of growing up, and his dad, distinctly ageing. There is another frame, a bit larger one, it shows a woman. There's a garland around the frame. Aman assumes it's Kartik's mother.

Aman patiently sits on the single bed, looking around when Kartik enters the room.

"Thoda messy hai. Saaf safai ka time nhi milta," Kartik justifies the chaotic condition of the room.

(It's a bit messy. I don't get time to clean up.)

Although Aman assures Kartik that he has managed the room just fine.

"Does your dad know?" Aman abruptly asks.

"Know what?"

Aman presses his nail into his already battered thumb.

"That you're gay?" The frequency speeds up.

"Yeah he does. I was thirteen. He caught me with my first boyfriend. He was very angry and it scared me because he's never angry. Dragged me home, screamed at me," Kartik narrates with so much emotion as a storyteller does.

The stabs in the thumb grow deeper.

"I confessed then. He didn't talk to me for three months. I went up the terrace each night in those three months. One day we came early. Didn't find me at home, he panicked so badly. Puri colony ko sir par utha liya tha," Kartik exclaims.

The speed of his periodic movement sedates a bit.

"He saw me then, at the terrace. Ran up and hugged me tight, crying incessantly. Perhaps, that night he realized I was still his son, he was still was father, my confidant. My sexuality didn't stop him from worrying about me each day. My sexuality didn't stop him from fretting about my wellbeing. My sexuality didn't stop me from missing talking to dad," Kartik reminisces.

He smiles at the memory. The most precious one that has a special place in his heart.

The stabbing motion ceases.

"He's a great father," Aman smiles at Kartik.

"That he is but you honestly need to stop doing that," Kartik points his index finger at Aman's now a bit swollen thumb.

Kartik sighs and looks for something at the bedside. He takes out a band-aid, there are many of them in the box. Colourful, with different fonts and designs on it. Aman looks at them like a child, fascinated by the littlest of things.

"You bought them? These are adorable."

"Specially for a special person."

Aman is now looking at him. His eyes tell a different story. They glisten with overwhelming emotions, with a hope dwindling through a thin, fragile string. There's a dread that Aman allows him to see. There's pain that has been concealed for so long. A bit of anger, frustration. A whirlpool of so many sentiments.

"You know you don't have to do all this for me? Don't pity me. I hate this," Aman lets out, looking away.

Kartik's heart drops. At the thought that Aman thinks it's all out of sympathy. At the thought that he doesn't see Kartik standing by his side. At the thought that he probably thinks he doesn't deserve it.

Kartik steps forward, sits beside Aman softly, places his hand on his shoulders.

Aman flinches violently as if he was going to get hit. Kartik's heart sinks.

"I don't do all of this because I pity you, Aman. I do all of this because I want to. Because," Kartik pauses, breathing heavily. He bites his inner cheek.

"Because I care about you, Aman," Kartik lets his hands fall from Aman's shoulder.

*

Silence took over soon. A defeating and deafening silence that Kartik thinks might eat him alive bit by bit. Aman refuses to look at him, let alone say something.

Currently, pretending to sleep a few inches away from him. Aman had headed to the couch but thankfully dad convinced him to share Kartik's bed.

The tension in the air won't even be able to cut with a razor. They're both just lying on their sides, facing away, pretending to be asleep whilst they both know they're wide awake.

*  
Aman eventually finds himself in a subconscious slumber but everything plays like a movie on a screen. Vague, indistinct pictures just sliding across with no actual correlation or connection with each other.

A glass is thrown to the ground. Glass pieces shatter with a loud clink. Some pierce through his skin but nothing could beat the pain of his father's voice yelling, "You're a disgrace. You can't be my son."  
The voice has so much disgust and fury drooping down it, it makes him shudder.

A pair of arms wrap around his waist. In his hazy, blurred conscience, they touch him, he doesn't like the way they roam all over his body. Cold lips tracing eerie patters on his sensitive skin as he struggles under a known weight to no avail. Croaking in low, wrenching cries. Nobody hears him, fortitude dies in defeat. A sinister smile graces the known face, he loses the purest part of himself.

  
"Look at you," a voice sneers, "Pathetic."

His skin crawls. Voices play in his head over and over again. Disgrace. Pathetic. Dirty. In a never-ending spiral.

"Nobody loves you. No one can. You don't deserve love."

The spiral tightens endlessly until it can't anymore, the spell breaks only for Aman to realize: it's inescapable, it's his reality.

Aman heaves himself with difficulty. Panting loudly he tries to regulate his breathing. He hears Kartik snoring softly by his side. He gets up as quietly as possible and heads to the Kartik's attached bathroom.

He closes the door, crumbles to the ground.

This can't be happening. Not here, not here. But his skin crawls. When he looks at himself in the mirror, he can't help but feel ugly, unwanted, undeserving.

Glimpses shoot through his head. Kartik showing him the prettiest celestial bodies.

_'Just someone special.'_

Kartik buying band-aids for him.

_'Specially for a special person.'_

Kartik's warm hands on his shoulder.

_'It's because I care for you, Aman.'_

Warm tears flow down his cheek. Affection. Special. Love. He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve anything. Doesn't deserve Kartik.

He feels this sudden urge. He searches the bathroom like a wild creature. He needs it, needs it. He breaths fall short, eyes search wildly. They land on a silver surface shining brilliantly.

Aman reaches for it. Doesn't think. Couldn't think. The place doesn't matter anymore. He just wants to get rid of this feeling, the urge. This is the only refuge.

Sharp edge of the silver razor touch the skin underneath. It hurts but it isn't enough. Rapid, violent movements. Repeating again and again.

Blinding pain. Crimson blood. Agony. Tears dropping down the wrist mixing with red fluid. Deserved. Needed.

Choked sobs escape his throat. He places a palm over his mouth. Silenced cries, begging for help.

He's drowning in the unknown and he's the reason for the fall.

Light enters through the crevices of the bathroom door.

"Aman? Aman, are you inside?" Kartik knocks the door.

His throat burns. Arms fall in misery. He cries pathetically, gut-wrenching sobs shake his frame.

"Aman! Aman, open the door! Aman- Aman please," The voice trembles with fear, concern and panic.

The knocking intensifies in frequency and decibels.

Kartik can't see this. Can't see him this way. Can't. Can't. He'll hate you. He'll never want to be with you again.

With murky, incoherent thoughts, stumbling steps, indecipherable movements, Aman manages to throw the blood-stained razor down the toilet. He unrolls his sleeves, wincing when it brushes the newly formed cuts. He wipes the moisture from his face.

He hurriedly opens the door when Kartik's desperate pleas and continuous knocking becomes hysterical.

"I'm okay. There's nothing wrong," His voice cracks mid-sentence. He wonders who is he trying to convince. Kartik or himself.

He doesn't dare to meet Kartik's eyes. But Kartik sees everything. His hands immediately reach Aman's wrist. His breath hitches.

The mustard T-shirt is already stained with patches of red. Kartik uncovers the sleeve. He visibly blanches at the sight.

Aman's knees buckle. He can't hold it in anymore. He feels himself succumbing to ground. Kartik hurriedly catches him in this hands, Aman's head rests on his shoulder as Kartik awkwardly holds him, looking as if he'll cry any moment.

Warm tears wet Kartik's T-shirt. Aman sobs uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry Kartik. Don't hate me. Please don't hate me. I'm sorry," Aman whispers against his neck between hiccups.

Amidst pleas of forgiveness, Aman's cries of "Don't hate me", Aman's profusely bleeding hands, Kartik felt a broken fragment of Aman pierce right through his heart.

*


	9. some ends are necessary

Aman blinks rapidly as the bright light falls from gaps of the drawn curtains onto him.

He groans slightly in irritation but starts to get up from the bed, supporting himself with his arms only to brush his wrist against the bed sheets and his face scrunches in pain.

He glances at his wrist, it's bandaged and dressed. Crimson still stains the white bandage.

Aman remembers moisture against his cheek and falling limp in Kartik's arms before darkness took over and there was nothing but just demons of his conscience conflicting.

Aman reaches for his phone to look at the time when Kartik enters the room with a tray. He places the tray on the bedside and passes Aman his phone.

Kartik starts to serve him breakfast but Aman realizes it's lunch as it is 2:45 in the afternoon. Kartik pretends that last night didn't happen and Aman likes it that way.

"I don't really feel hungry," Aman says.

He is not lying. He really does not hungry. In fact, he feels nothing. Like a shell, hollow inside. There are days like these, many days like these when he doesn't want to eat, he can't get himself to fall asleep, all those things that he was always zealous to do didn't appeal him anymore, he consistently lost motivation and interest to do not just things he adored to do but also the basic things like sleeping, eating or living, for instance.

"You didn't eat anything since whatever little you ate last night. How are you not hungry?" Kartik asks.

Aman doesn't dare to look at Kartik. He can't get himself to, not after last night.

"Kartik rajma chawal bahut aacha banata hai. Thoda sa toh kha le, son," Kartik's father insists, who made an entry at some point that Aman's downcast eyes didn't catch.

(Kartik cooks rajma chawal really well. Eat a little, son.)

Aman doesn't have the heart to say no to him so he reluctantly reaches for the extended plate.

The fact that Kartik's father knows about last night, unsettles and further embarrasses him. Kartik's father retreats quickly, probably realizing and respecting Aman's discomfort.

There's nothing with silence in the room except for eventual sounds of the spoon hitting the plate as Aman plays around with food, twirling rice in the spoon or just mixing the already mixed rice with kidney beans.

"Your mom kept calling, I didn't want to wake you up. You should call back," Kartik breaks the silence.

"Mom?" Aman questions, surprised as if it isn't possible.

Kartik just nods, wondering why is Aman so puzzled.

Aman reaches for his phone, almost even dropping the food on the bed in the process.

He unlocks his phone and Kartik catches a glimpse of the home screen. It's Aman standing in middle with a middle-aged couple. Kartik assumes it's his parents. 

Aman quickly dials a number, placing his phone on his ear. His lips thin in anticipation. The sound of ringtone rings in the quiet room, Aman's nail found his thumb yet again.

Aman is about to almost cut off the call with a disappointed sigh when the call gets picked.

"Hello, Aman?" A voice whispers on the other side, hope evident in it.

Aman silently sighs in relief, looking up at the ceiling, trying to control the irrepressible feeling that overcame him. 

6 months and 16 days. 

He has heard his mother after 6 months and 16 days. The sweet, hushed voice that he was dying to hear for so long.

"Aman, tu hai na?" The voice on the other end cracks.

(Aman, are you there?)

Aman's lips tremble, throat goes dries, words don't make it out of his mouth.  
His silence leads to a whimper from the other side.

Silence. It's a strange thing, isn't it? Sometimes, you just speak everything without even uttering a word, exposing the shallowness of conversations. Sometimes, no words can explain the whirlpool of emotions swirling inside you. Sometimes, silence is all you want. It heals you in a way nothing can, smoothening the broken edges of your soul. Sometimes, it feels like a gaping void, just wanting to be filled; it's like you are buried under a thick layer of ice, screaming, shouting but it doesn't get past the layer of coldness; it's so loud, it rings in your head like a discordant symphony and you can't hear anything over it.

Aman wonders if this silence ate up her alive as well as it did it.

"Tu theek hai na?" She keeps talking because she knows he's listening. She knows everything, even the answer to her own question.

(Are you okay?)

Aman doesn't think he can make her suffer anymore. It makes his heart clench the way her voice keeps cracking.

"Main theek hoon, maa," His lies, knowing well she can always hear the truth right through his lies.

(I am okay, mom.)

His voice alone was enough to break her down. She doesn't even try to hide it anymore, just wails into the phone. Aman just wants to be there with her, hold her in her arms, rest his head on her lap, wanna be home.

"Aman beta, mujhe maaf kar de, maaf kar de," she cries, remorse and sorrow dripping down her voice. 

(Aman, forgive me, forgive me.)

"Aap kyu maafi maang rhe ho, maa? Aapki kya galti hai?" Aman asks.

(Why are you asking for forgiveness, maa? What's your fault?)

It's true, it isn't her fault. She didn't even have a say, she never has. When he came out to his family, it took an impeccable amount of courage but he expected them to understand. After all, they are his family but everything went down the drain. 

His father's sharp words still feel as if they're cutting his skin, baring his deepest fears and insecurities for everyone to see and mock. The poison spluttered still slowly kills him.

He remembers Sunaina Tripathi not understanding his confession but the moment Shankar Tripathi's angry flames started to burn him, she stood there like a shield only to be silenced.

He remembers hearing his parents fighting, remembers her doing her best to protect him, to convince dad to let him stay with them. He remembers her crestfallen face when she wasn't even allowed to embrace him once before he left.

Aman meant it when he said he doesn't blame her.

"Kaise galti nahi hai? Jab tujhe meri sabse zyada zaroorat thi tab maine tujhe chod diya," She laments, her words are so sincere.

(How is it not my fault? When you needed me the most, I just left you.)

Aman wants to tell her that it really isn't her. That it wasn't in her hand. That he knows she would have never left him.

But she doesn't stop. He hears a broken whimper, his heart clenches.

"Tujhe kuch ho gya na, toh main mar jaogi, jeete jee mar jaogi," She croaks, weeping again.

(If something happens to you, I'll die. Living will be like death to me.)

Aman glances at his left hand, wrist still covered with a bandage but the blood seeps through it.

All the turmoil he had been stacking up inside explodes as he starts crying hysterically. His mother's concerned whispers are heard from the fallen phone but nothing seems to affect him now. Familiar warm hands wrap around him, holding him tightly as sobs shake his frame. Hands moving in small, soothing circles, trying to pacify him. The cries from other end of the phone aren't helping either, they subdue eventually. Perhaps, a mother's heart couldn't bear it anymore.

"I mess up everything, don't I?" Aman croaks into Kartik's shoulder.

"N-No, don't say that," Kartik stumbles with words. His voice sounds frail, meek as if it'll break any moment.

Aman detaches himself from Kartik's embrace to look at Kartik who looks away, avoiding Aman's eyes.

Aman tilts Kartik's head, tears are rolling down his cheeks, there are tear tracks dried. Aman wonders how long has he been crying silently.

"Kartik? Why are you crying?" He asks, his own voice dwindling.

He cups Kartik's face with his hands, wiping off his tears but his eyes brim with fresh tears.

"I hate this. It hurts me. It hurts me so much to see you like this," Kartik's hands move desperately in air.

That's when Kartik's father came in the room probably to check up on both of them. He coughs loudly and says, "I'll come back later" as he starts leaving.

Kartik and Aman hastily move away from each other, wipe their tears.

Aman starts to get up and says, "No you don't have to. I was just leaving."

"Leaving?" Kartik asks.

"Varun will be back tonight. I have to go," Aman smiles a goodbye, it wavers immediately.

Kartik knows it was inevitable. Aman will have to leave but it still dawns down on him like a lightning bolt.

"I'll drop you."

*

They reach the apartment. Aman searches for keys in his pockets. He takes them out only to realize the door is already open.

Dread creeps in his stomach, his intuition gives him bad signals as he clicks the door open.

He enters the room, Kartik follows behind. The lights and electrical appliances inside were already switched on. He gulps.

"Surprise," a voice blooms through the silent room.

It doesn't carry any joy or exclamation. It's saccharine but slow, monotonous drawl.

Aman meets Varun's eyes. All Aman wants is to run away, hide where no one will find him. He can't do this, not now.

He's distraught from the day, his mental state is in shambles. He can't afford another breakdown.

"I left my parents early, Aman. You know why? I thought I'd surprise Aman. Mum prepared a gift for you. I thought you'll be so happy to see it. Guess it wasn't good enough. Yours is better," Varun jeers in a sharp, glacial tone.

"It isn't what it looks like," Kartik inserts, he is not leaving. He won't, he can't leave Aman with this monster.

Varun, the name itself makes Kartik go crazy. Varun is a wolf in sheep's clothes. Pretentious, cold-hearted and vile. Kartik hates him with his might.

"Oh right, it's always not what it looks like, isn't it?" Varun says, inching closer to Kartik.

"Get out," Varun orders him, pointing to the door.

Kartik stands there still, unintimidated. He is not doing the same mistake again. He isn't leaving Aman again. 

"I will not. Not until you hear us out," Kartik says.

Kartik witnesses Varun's eyes go wild in a split second. He growls like an animal and lunges himself at Kartik.

Like an uncontrollable, untamed beast, he sees nothing and slams Kartik into the wall, punching him.

Kartik feels his jaw ache, he doesn't get a chance to even register what happens when another punch lands on his other side of face.

Aman yells in surprise when Varun goes feral. He screeches loudly over Varun's furious grunts and Kartik's surprised cries of pain for Varun to stop.

He doesn't. Aman doesn't understand why does Kartik not defend himself.

Kartik just looks at him, submitting to Varun's attacks. Is it how Kartik feels when he sees him? Does he feel his soul being ripped apart over and over again as well?

Aman doesn't understand what takes over him but an indomitable power acquires him, he pushes Varun off Kartik.

Kartik coughs out blood, his upper lip is split, jaw already looks like it is swelling. Aman assists him to get up, he heaves against the wall.

Aman turns to Varun ferociously, "What are you doing? Stop it. Spot it," He yells.

"Hurts to see your fling get beaten, now? You should have thought that before cheating on m-" Varun grits through teeth, clenching his fists.

"I never cheated on you. I never would have. Not even when you treated me like shit," Aman confesses.

He breathes, sits on the couch nearby because his legs don't seem to be supporting him anymore.

He runs a hand through his already disarray hair.

"It's over, Varun. It's over," Aman whispers in the utter silence of the room.

Varun's fist unclenches, he rushes to the couch, kneels down before Aman.

Kartik has never seen Varun like this. It looks like he has transformed into a whole new person. Vulnerable. Bare. Weak.

"Aman, I trust you. I believe you, I won't ever doubt you. Don't leave me, please. Please, Aman. I love you. I love you," Varun pleads.

Aman brings his hands down. 

"It's not just about this. About everything about this relationship, Varun. Your violent tendencies, your obsession, your possessiveness. You want to control every part of me, you hit me, touch me when I don't feel like. You are one of the reasons I despise even the ghost of my existence. You are the reason I'm sick in here," Aman points to his head.

He's yelling, words forcedly making their way out in a gruff but fragile tone.

Aman gets up, making his way to the nearby wardrobe. He starts picking out his clothes, stuffing them in a bag he took out from the almirah. 

Varun follows him, tries to hold his hand, Aman jerks away from his hand from his wrist.

"I'll change, Aman. I'll change, please. I can't live without you, please. Please," Varun is openly crying now, they're real. Aman knows that.

"These forge promises that I've always believed like a fool and then we go back right from where we started and the same cycle continues. I'm trapped in this vicious cycle, Varun. And I won't ever make it out alive if you don't let me go," Aman is looking at Varun in eyes, it's intimate and personal, Kartik feels like an intruder.

Varun suddenly moves to the nearest furniture, holding and supporting himself as if he has been burdened with the world's entire weight.

"I'm sorry, Aman. I really am. I don't know what, what happened. I have no excuses. Go, Aman. I don't even deserve your forgiveness," Varun says, every muscle in his body knotted up as realization flooded in. 

The ugly, brutal epiphany of his own crudeness.

"But I forgive you, Varun," Aman says softly.

It catches both Varun and Kartik off guard. Why would Aman forgive Varun after all Varun has done to him.

But Aman knows what he is doing. He has to forgive. Forgive to free himself from the shackles of this toxic relationship in every aspect. Forgive to let go. Forgive to move on and grow. Forgive to allow Varun to come closer to the notion of redemption. 

Kartik realizes that the boat Aman was travelling on has sunk long ago. That Aman has hit the rock bottom long ago. All this time he was drowning in the bottomless pit, suffocating. Each moment his breath was falling short. In the abyss of darkness, he wanted a hope to hold on to. A pearl from a shelled mollusc glistened into the darkness, that's all Aman needed. He's a fighter and he bounced back, reaching a shore which might not be his destined utopia but it's a new beginning.


	10. healing

Kartik wakes up to Aman snoring slightly near his ear. Kartik doesn't mind, it sounds like a melody to him. Their legs are tangled, arms are around each other, engulfing them in each others body heat. The blanket over him has been swept away from above it. Kartik reminds himself to get a larger blanket because Aman always sweeps away the blanket from over him every night.

Kartik looks at the clock, it's 6:12 AM. They should be awake right now because they need to leave by 7. But Kartik rests his head on Aman's chest, ruffles his tousled hair, and smiles slightly. He waited too long for these moments and now he has them, he doesn't ever want to let them go.

"Kartik! Aman! Uth gaye kya?" A voice shouts.

(Kartik! Aman! Are you awake?)

"Haan, papa, aate hain," Kartik yells back, sighing.

(Yes, papa, we'll be down in a while.)

Aman slightly stirs in his sleep. Kartik shakes him slightly and whispers into his ear seductively, "Uth ja meri jaan."

(Wake up, my love.)

Aman groans in irritation and pushes Kartik off his chest whining something along the lines of 'sone de na'.

(Let me sleep.)

Kartik grins mischievous and pulls the blankets off Aman who makes a rather cute noise of protest and agitation but curls his legs and puts a pillow over his head.

Kartik doesn't stop, he reaches for Aman's stomach and tickles him, knowing how sensitive Aman is. Aman immediately bursts in fits of giggles, kicking his legs and getting Kartik's hands off him as he cries in between laughs, 'uth gaya, uth gaya'.

(I'm awake, I'm awake.)

*

Two years.

Kartik has waited for two years for Aman.

Aman knew Kartik liked him, he liked Kartik back as well. But a relationship was something he couldn't afford. Not when the wounds that his past relationship has given him have not even stitched themselves back. Not when his heart has been ripped out of his chest and stomped over. Not when his trust has been broken in so many pieces that scattered all over his path of moving on. Not when he couldn't even love himself, let alone love another person.

After Aman broke up with Varun, he didn't really have anywhere to go. Kartik had given his blood and bones to convince Aman to stay at his place. Aman didn't talk much; didn't sleep at all, just laid blankly on the bed, boring holes in the ceiling all night; he ate little to nothing, the little he ate was due to Kartik's dad's persistent insistence. It killed Kartik each day inside to see Aman that way, killed him to see those unshed tears in his eyes.

It had been one gracious day, Aman's mother had called, they talked for a while. Aman had told Kartik he'll be leaving for Allahabad. Kartik didn't question him but then Aman had asked him in a barely audible voice, "Will you come with me?"

And of course, Kartik had said yes.

On the way to Allahabad, Aman had told him how his parents weren't so accepting about him being gay. The way he hasn't talked to them for almost 7 months now. Kartik had been reminded of his own exposure to that kind of silence. It's the most agonizing, every second feels like a pain to live through, feels like an unbearable weight has been placed on your shoulders, the longing to break the silence always resides except breaking the barrier is not in your hands.

Kartik had felt the exhausting silence linger on reaching Allahbad as they had sat across Aman's parents. But Kartik had seen innumerable emotions bubbling inside all of them. Kartik had seen the invisible barrier breaking as Sunaina engulfs Aman in an embrace. It hadn't taken long for Aman to break down in her arms, all his emotions bare on display like a transparent glass.

Aman had told them everything. Kartik had thought he has never seen such indomitable anguish in someone's eyes when he saw Shankar and Sunaina Tripathi crumble under the weight of every single word their son had uttered.

Shankar Tripathi had locked himself in the adjacent room, everyone had heard him slump against the door with a significant 'thud', everyone had heard his muffled cries that he hadn't wanted to them to hear.

He had apologized profusely later, begging Aman to forgive him for being a horrible father. Aman had forgiven him. Remorse still is buried deep inside in his chest but Aman's comforting forgiveness does help him escape deceit he had felt for himself.

Kartik had always admired Aman's ability to forgive. Forgiveness needs a heart of gold, not everyone can jump over the temptation of vengeance.

*

They're in their fourth college year. It is very important and both of them realize that so they're not missing classes, are focussing on assignments and projects.

But they do have their cheat days. Aman's acquaintance with a lot of people now but Kanika and Keshav are the only ones who they're close to. Kanika is finally dating Amayra after kind of courting her for about a year. She often hangs out with them.

Kartik watches Aman laughing loudly as Kanika narrates how she successfully made a fool of herself on their date.

Kartik finds himself unconsciously smiling. Oh, how that was all he wanted at some point, to see Aman smile this whole-heartedly, with all his teeth on display.

This wasn't a bed of roses, though.

*

Aman's parents had wanted Aman to stay with Kartik after knowing everything. They had insisted to even pay the rent. Kartik had denied. Aman had stayed with them from then on.  
They had transformed a room they left for storage purposes into Aman's room. Eventually, it had become useless when two rooms weren't necessary anymore.

Kartik had expected Aman's sleeping and eating patterns to get better but nothing did. Aman had told him it's that way for a long time now.

It had worried Kartik a lot. Every time he saw light through crevices of Aman's door, he himself couldn't manage an ounce of sleep. Every time he saw Aman playing with food, eating almost nothing, he lost his appetite too.

But he had not been the only one who has been worried about Aman.

Kartik had been thinking about talking to Aman about seeing a psychiatrist. But it had been Kartik's dad who voiced the concern. He had taken an appointment already that left no option for Aman but to agree.

Kartik had thanked him later but it warmed Kartik's heart like nothing else when he said, "Jitna tu mera beta hai, utna woh bhi hai."

(He is my son as much as you're mine.)

Kartik had taken Aman to the terrace that night.

Aman had asked him, "You showed me the brightest star. But what about the dimmest? Nobody cares about a dimmed star, right?"

Kartik hadn't understood the meaning of the question but when he did he had replied, "The dimmest star from Earth might be brightest on some other in the universe. It's all relative. No star is dimmed, they are just bright somewhere else, to someone else."

*

It's night. Aman is helping dad to wash dishes in the kitchen as Kartik cleans up the dining table. They're talking in a quiet voice.

They watch an episode of a web show together and Kartik and Aman make their way to their room after dad retire for sleep.

Aman stares proudly at the daily calendar and rips off the sheet of paper.

730 days, it reads.

730 days of Aman refraining himself from inflicting wounds on his skin. 730 days of Aman subduing his inner demons that compel him to self-harm. 730 days of Aman, healing, painfully slow but healing takes time, wounds take the time of heal, bruises that time to fade away, wings that torn apart take time to grow again, zeal to live takes time to reignite.

Aman is still healing. He has colourful band-aids around his invisible cuts. He is still learning to love and cherish but it's better now.

Kartik hugs Aman, cups his face and tells him how proud he is like he does every night. Aman beams brightly.

Kartik remembers the night Aman had laid all his insecurities bare in front of him.

*

Kartik had pressed his lips against Aman's in a soft, tender kiss. Aman had his arms wrapped around his torso. Kartik had his arms delicately cupping Aman's face.

Kartik had felt electricity rush through his body, all he wanted was to ravish Aman in every way possible.

Aman was almost naked beneath him. They were scars, running in all direction, irregular, indefinite painted over the canvas on Aman's skin.

Kartik unintentionally stared long and hard at them, his callous fingers brushing lightly over them.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to, you know? I'm ugly, I know that. I understand," Aman had whispered, his voice quivers with his deepest fears.

"What part of you is ugly, Aman? I see nothing but perfection," Kartik had rebuked.

"These scars, they are heinous. They remind me how weak and unwanted I am," Aman's eyes brim with tears.

Tears had rolled down his cheek, glistening under the dim lights. Kartik had kissed every tear away.

"These scars make you anything but ugly, Aman. If anything they're souvenirs of your battle that you fought like a brave knight. If anything, they tell me how you're the strongest person I know."

Kartik had brought his lips down every scar on Aman's body. Kartik had showered every crevice of Aman's body with tender touches. Kartik might not have kissed away his insecurities but definitely taught him his flaws are perfections to him. After all, it's all relative.

*

Kartik wants to celebrate. It's another victory in their journey covered over a path of thorns. So he takes Aman to the place that captured all their moments. To the terrace, under the inky canopy of sky.

He sits there with Aman beside, their feet dangling down the terrace.

It reminds him of another ethereal night under the same sky.

*

Aman had taken him to terrace and had asked him to show him Sirius.

Kartik had been tired from the day but he obliged with minimal protests.

"Sirius, the brightest star in the sky isn't it?" Aman had asked rhetorically.

"That's you to me, Kartik. If I hadn't found you when I was in darkness, I probably wouldn't have made it out alive."

"I love you, Kartik."

Aman had looked at him with his brown eyes brimming with tears. It took him aback completely.

Aman had cupped his face, closed his eyes and brought his lips to meet with Kartik's. Under the glorious full moon, basking in the moonlight, two souls bound to each other eternally. Under the constellations of the timeless stars, two souls intertwined their destinies.

"I love you too."

*

Teetering on the edge of oblivion, a boat went on another journey. The destination was himself this time. Wrecked from the previous storm, it barely made it but there's nothing love can't heal, they say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been quite a journey. Thank you everyone for being kind enough to read, like and comment. Love you all.


End file.
